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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26733310">The Archives of Good and Evil</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucicorn72/pseuds/Lucicorn72'>Lucicorn72</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast), The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Horror, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, but most of the major plot points will be there, or at least trying to be, this won't follow the exact plot of TMA</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:53:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,348</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26733310</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucicorn72/pseuds/Lucicorn72</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You would think Agatha Woods believed in ghosts. Her job is to read people's supernatural encounters and research them. But as far as everyone at The Magnus Institute is concerned, their new Archivist is a skeptic. But as statements start coming in, Agatha's world view is crushed, and she is dragged into a horrifying mystery that will most definitely lead to the end of the world.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Agatha/Tedros (The School for Good and Evil), Hort/Sophie (The School for Good and Evil)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Statement #0091609: Dead Name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Because this is supposed to be horror I will be offering trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter. If I ever leave something out that you think could be a trigger, let me know!</p><p>Trigger Warnings for this chapter include:<br/>- Identity Theft<br/>- Dead naming<br/>- Death/implied death of an LGBTQ+ character<br/>- Murder<br/>- Being replaced by an impostor<br/>- Threatening</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <span>Recording Begins</span>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Agatha:</b>
  <span> Is this thing on? Right, okay then. I am Agatha Woods, new Head Archivist of The Magnus Institute. I was given this position rather suddenly, after the sudden disappearance (and probable death) of my predecessor Clarissa Dovey. She left the Archives in quite a mess, I can’t even begin to imagine where to start with the statements. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to have recorded them all as they came in on an old tape recorder, but I can’t seem to find these tapes anywhere. I tried recording some on my laptop, but the results with the audio were… unsettling to say the least. So I have resorted to Clarissa’s use of the tape recorder. Right, anyway. Statement of Kiko Nevergreen, regarding the disappearance of her girlfriend Yara Towers. Original statement given 09/16/2009. Statement recorded 05/13/2020. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <span>Statement Begins</span>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I met Yara at college. We were in the same dorm building, and we talked occasionally. She was studying dance, and I was majoring in veterinary sciences, so we didn’t interact much. I always thought she was cute though, so I was excited when she asked me to get coffee one day. We started dating soon after that. We had been together five years when she went missing. We had gotten in a bit of a fight, so I thought she just wanted to blow off steam. After three days I realized that I hadn’t tried to contact her at all, and phoned her cell. The voice of a young man answered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to speak to Yara please”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The owner of this cell phone. My </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Babe, I know we got into a pretty bad fight, but I’m pretty sure we haven’t broken up yet. So unless you’re cheating on me, I am still your boyfriend.” His voice was playful, almost like this was a game to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Prove it” I answered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Umm, check your camera roll.” I did. Every single picture of Yara had been replaced by pictures of around the same age, with matching red hair and freckles. Every picture on my Instagram as well. I couldn’t find any proof that Yara had ever existed. I told the boy that I wanted to talk, and hung up. I looked through my Instagram again and found a tagged picture of the boy. Tristan Towers. And suddenly I felt sick to my stomach. The thing is, Tristan was Yara’s dead name. So whoever did this had a sick sense of humor. I mean, that is a “lowest of the low” kind of person. I texted people. I looked everywhere. No one knew who Yara was, and even worse, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>insisted</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Tristan and I had been dating the whole time I was supposed to have been dating Yara. By the time Tristan knocked on the door I was too afraid to answer. He opened the door slowly, and sat across from me on the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you know who I am?” I didn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re my boyfriend”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you prefer someone else? A </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span> perhaps?” A sick twisted smile crept across his face. And suddenly I was even more afraid then before. I thought he was going to devour me, whatever monster had replaced Yara was going to kill and replace me, telling everyone they were Kiko Nevergreen. But it sat there still.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where is she?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Somewhere you won’t find her”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The only way you can do that is if you join her. Are you willing to pay the ultimate price to find her?” His voice became a whispering scream, with hundreds of other voices behind him, as if they were all speaking at the same time. I began crying, and he smiled again. He got up from the sofa and walked out the door. I never saw Yara or “Tristan” again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I told everyone one we broke up. That Tristan was a jerk, that he had cheated on me, all the usual breakup reasons. They consoled me, told me they never liked him anyway. It was a lie. They loved Yara. They probably liked Tristan too. I wasn’t even surprised when I found out he went missing. The monster moved on to someone else. It was done with me and Yara.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I guess that’s why I’m here, giving my statement. So you know that it’s still out there. And you might not even know it. I’m going to try and find Yara. I don’t care how far I have to go, I will find my girlfriend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <span>Statement Ends</span>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Agatha:</b>
  <span> Kiko Nevergreen went missing soon after giving this statement. Either she went looking for Yara and got in too deep, or she never got the chance to go looking at all… I don’t know which one I hope is true. Sophie did some digging and was able to find some of her old friends. Interviewing them proved little help however, as all of them referenced Kiko’s last relationship as a boy named “Tristan Towers”. Tedros talked to her parents, and they allowed him to look through an old photo album. Almost all of the pictures in the five years before Kiko’s disappearance show a redheaded boy. Except one. A Polaroid photo, showing Kiko Nevergreen and a freckled, redheaded girl. It is labeled “Kiko and Yara 2008”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <span>Recording Ends</span>
  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Statement #0071812: Ex Altiora</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger Warnings for this chapter include:<br/>- electrocution<br/>- murder<br/>- body mutilation</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <span>Recording Begins</span>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Agatha: </b>
  <span>Statement #0071812, given by Reena Dunes, regarding a strange book she purchased at a second-hand book shop. Original statement given 12/18/2010, statement recorded 05/21/2020.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <span>Statement Begins</span>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I have a habit of always stopping into second-hand shops when I come across them. I always find something I want. Sometimes it’s clothing, sometimes an old piece of pottery. So when I found that book I didn’t think anything of it. I was going to visit my friend Millicent Doe, and she suggested I pop into a nice book shop that was in the area before I arrived. So I took her advice and decided to take a look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a warm day, but the shop was cold. Even though every wall was covered in bookshelves, the place felt empty and vast. The books weren’t sorted by genre, but alphabetically. I browsed for about twenty minutes before I found something interesting. It was leather-bound, and the text was a faded gold. On the inside cover, it read “Belonging to the Library of August Sader. The story was simple enough, if not a little disturbing. A village becomes haunted by a looming beast in the distance, and each day the figure draws closer. After several weeks of this, the village becomes so mad with fear they throw themselves off of a nearby cliff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I closed the book to look at the cover. Ex Altiora. It occurs to me now that the entire book was written in Latin. I had never taken the language, and yet I had read it cover to cover easily. I don’t remember exactly what happened after that, but the next thing I remembered was showing Millicent the book, so I must have bought it. She thought the story was absolutely terrifying. I put the book away after that. The rest of the night was fairly calm. We went to go watch a play that Millie was interested in. In the middle of the play, a strange burning smell filled the theatre, and I was convinced that one of the lights was burning and I almost turned to tell Millie that we should leave, but then it was gone, and I assumed the problem had been fixed. After the play, we parted ways and I went home, with a new treasure in my bag.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I didn’t expect the smell to come back. Something was burning, but I couldn’t find it. And then I saw the book. Sitting there, begging me to open it. The burning smell was coming from the book, I knew it then. I snatched the book of the table and began furiously leafing through the pages. And then I saw it. The Lichtenberg figure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I have a… personal connection to the fractal pattern. As a child, my best friend, Beatrix Jolie, was struck by lightning. We could sense the storm coming, and I suggested we go inside. Beatrix said we should play a little longer, and she ran out into a huge empty field. She spun around, swinging her arms about wildly. And then she was struck. It happened so fast I didn’t even know what had happened exactly. But Beatrix was on the ground. I ran to the nearest house, and the next thing I knew, we were in the hospital. The lightning had left the Lichtenberg figure forever embedded in her skin. And her skin forever had the lingering smell of ozone. The same smell that had been emerging from the book. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I tried to get rid of it. To sell it back to the bookshop owner. He said he had never seen the book before in his life. After what felt like weeks, I found an old woman who said she would take it. I met her at her shop that weekend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shop was dark and empty. A sign reading “Pinhole Books” hung overhead. The old woman made her way to the door and opened it for me. She looked nothing like how I had expected. Everything about her seemed tight and stretched. Her skin was pale, and covered in tattoos in a language I didn’t understand. Her long black hair was braided, but it still reached down to her waist. When she smiled, it was twisted and forced, and a chill went down my spine. She took the book from my shaking hands and began inspecting every inch of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen one of these,” Her voice was somehow high and shrill, yet low and intimidating at the same time. “I thought Sader had gotten rid of them all”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I found it in-” I tried to explain, but she cut me off with a wave of her hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter where you found it, what matters is that I’m going to take it off your hands now.” She smiled again, and I felt a pit in my stomach begin to form.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How much will you give me for it?” I was almost afraid to ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh I don’t have much to give, but I can promise that you’ll never have to deal with books like these again. I can make sure of it.” She began making her way through bookshelves, all of them overflowing, and half of them looked like they were about to fall over. I followed her. Above what looked to be an old fireplace, a portrait of a young woman and a boy hung, their eyes staring cold and dead into the void.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aric was so gifted when it came to finding Saders,” She said, noticing me looking at the painting. Her voice was sharp and angry, but her face read as a disappointed mother. She handed the book back to me. “He’ll be by to pick it up tonight,” she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t going to take it from me now?” I said, hands shaking as I reached for the book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a feeling that you would come to take it back” Her eyes flashed with something dark and twisted. I took the book and quickly left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When I got back to my flat I looked up Pinhole Books. I wish I hadn’t. I wish I had waited for Aric to come and buy the book from me, and never thought about it again. In 2008 Aric Lesso killed his mother, Lenora Lesso, and peeled the skin of her body. He hung it in the back of the book shop and wrote over it in an unidentified language. The image provided was, graphic, to say the least. They provided a photograph of Lenora as well. It was the same woman I had met in the bookshop, minus the tattoos. I was falling down a rabbit hole of conspiracies about the case when the door knocked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A tall, dark-haired man stood on the other side of the door. He wore a long black trench coat and leather fingerless gloves. I asked him if he was Aric and he responded with a small nod. His eyes were an unnatural purple color, but I had a feeling they weren’t colored contacts. I quickly handed the book and went to shove him out the door. He didn’t move. He reached into his pocket and handed me a wad of cash. I thanked him and started to head to the door again, trying to signal this strange man to leave. He reached back into his pocket and brought out a lighter. He held it up to the book, and set it aflame. He dumped it into my bin, and the smell of ozone disappeared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I watched him stand there. “Why?” I asked, “I thought- I thought your mother wanted-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My mother doesn’t always know what’s best for our family” He stared at me with those unnaturally purple eyes. Then he picked up the bin and walked out the door. I haven’t gone into a thrift store for a long time. And I always lock the door when it starts to rain. Maybe I’ll call Beatrix. Make sure she’s okay...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Statement Ends</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Agatha:</b>
  <span> *</span>
  <em>
    <span>sigh</span>
  </em>
  <span>* Saders. I had </span>
  <em>
    <span>assumed</span>
  </em>
  <span> that they had all been destroyed when his library was destroyed in 1994, but it sounds like there are still a few floating around. Sophie looked around and found some of the original reports covering the murder of Lenora Lesso, and Hort interviewed some officers that had been around during the event. Apparently, Aric was going to be convicted of the murder when several witnesses retracted their statements, and he was set free. He disappeared soon after that. Tedros was only slightly traumatized by the images provided by Sophie and Hort when they presented their findings, so I’m glad I might finally be able to send him out on our more... sensitive cases.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <span>Recording Ends</span>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>why do Aggie and Jon gotta be so m e a n to their boyfriends :( </p><p>Also, Aric actually isn't terrible in this au (ik I'm scared too, I always write Aric as a bitch to the highest extent)</p><p>Contact me at @puck_the_meatloaf on Instagram if you have any suggestions, or think I should add something to the trigger warnings!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you have any ideas or things to write about dm me at @puck_the_meatloaf on Instagram!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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